


Nightingale vignette: Bathtime

by kit_fox



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kit_fox/pseuds/kit_fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Radio is tired of her living quarters, and the Collector wants a song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little side-chapter for Nightingale, my completed story of the Collector and my original character, Radio. This little side piece will take place somewhere in the middle of the main story, during Radio’s stay in the Collector’s menagerie.

Time dripped past Radio with a molasses urgency, ticking away the supposed forever of her incarceration. She huddled in her cage, watching the vague ghost of herself reflected in the glass. She looked, to herself, like a sunken old woman.

How had she arrived here? Her mind clicked back to her previous captors, a gang of slavers and gun runners who had also kept her in a cage, this one steel. They jabbed at her through the bars with their guns to make her sing, and sing she did. This was Radio’s greatest comfort, and greatest power. She sang love songs and sad songs, songs about war and songs about home, bar songs and pirate songs and even lullabies. When she tried to sing a song about breaking out of her cage and kicking them all in the throat, she got the butt of a gun knocked into her face and took a several hour nap.

One day, the men grew bored waiting for some shipment that was delayed. They began to harass her like little children, reaching through the bars of the cage to pull her hair, splashing their drinks on her, demanding that she strip so they could find out if she was green all over. When they got into these moods in the past, she had always been able to distract them with a soothing tune from their homeland, but today nothing would make them leave her alone. Nothing until the doors to their warehouse peeled open and the Collector and his men laid them all on the ground, dead.

For a short time, Radio was convinced she’d been saved. This strange man with his white hair and black cape, with eyes darkened by some internal storm cloud and magic in his hands, this man broke apart her cage with a finger twitch. She watched with terror and admiration as he leaned over her and said, in a voice as smooth and destructive as a cold gun, “Put your arm around me.”

Radio complied at once, reaching up to curl her arms around the shoulders of her bizarre rescuer. Beneath her hands was thick leather. She looked into his face as he lifted her into his arms, looking for some sign of who he was, a hero, a good man; but he only looked ahead. He carried her out of the warehouse, away from the bodies of her captors, away from the cage.

She didn’t know she would only be exchanging one cage for another.

Now she was within the vast menagerie of the Collector, in her small terrarium, a treasure meant only for the eyes of Taneleer Tivan.

A chime sounded. She had thirty seconds till shower.

Radio hated the shower. A pounding invasion of ice cold water, it contained not just a cleansing agent, but a variety of nutrients the subjects of the collection might otherwise get from their home planet. The other prisoners seemed indifferent to the pounding, vitamin-infused water, but it infuriated Radio. It stung her skin and left her raw and grumpy.

“I’m fine, thanks!” she shouted at the chime. “Fuck off, please!”

She heard a noise to her left. The Collector had stifled a laugh. He was hovering there, in the darkness, like some voyeuristic Nosferatu. Radio slammed her fist against the glass of her cage.

“That goes for you too, Man-Wolf,” she said. “What are you watching for?”

“You grow so angry at the shower,” he said, just barely containing his amusement. “I find myself anticipating this time of day with no small amount of pleasure.”

Radio’s incendiary remark was cut off by a hiss from above and in moments she was soaked through with freezing water. She cursed and stomped around her small terrarium to keep warm. Tivan watched her with crossed arms and a smug expression, until he came to notice the way the water had soaked her clothes, sucking them against her skin, the cold making her body react in ways he could not help but see. He broke his gaze away.

Which was ridiculous, as she was his property. He could stare as much as he chose. He looked at her again.

She caught his eye. He looked away.

“Happy now?” she asked.

Powerful jets of hot air blew up from the floor, drying her quickly. Her dark hair blew around her face, fluffing out like an upset bird. Radio tried desperately to grab at it.

Tivan bit back a smile.

“I suppose now would be an inopportune time to request a song from you?”

“Are you out of your damn mi --” Radio glared at him. _“Yes,_ Benevolent Master, after that bit of humiliation, you’d be lucky if I ever look at you again. Come to think of it, why _do_ I? Fuck off again.”

Tivan sighed. “Maybe I shall try again when you’re less agitated.”

“Very well, I will see you never,” said Radio, smoothing out her hair.

The Collector turned to leave.

“Hold up, wait.”

He halted.

“There is something. A deal.”

He turned around and stepped slowly toward her.

“You realize,” he swept a hand in front of him. “Your release is off the table.”

“I’m not a moron, Professor Coldheart,” she sneered.

He drew closer to the glass, watching her with a glimmer of a smile on the other side of it.

“Then what do you propose, my dear?”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radio gets to leave her cell.

“You understand that if my guards should see us, they will assume you are holding me hostage in another escape attempt?” Tivan said tersely as he opened the side door to her terrarium.  
“Your guards,” said Radio. “Will believe whatever you tell them.”  
Tivan let out a sharp breath through his nose. He offered her his hand to step down and when she did not take it, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and produced a red cord from his jacket.  
“This is as much for your protection as my insurance,” he said, wrapping the cord around her wrists. “Trust me please when I say you shall not escape it.”  
“I believe you,” she said, stretching it against her wrists.  
“Then let’s be on our way,” he said, setting his fingers at the small of her back to guide her.  
Radio stiffened at his touch. To him it may have appeared that he was no more than a gentleman escorting a lady, but she knew it would always be jailer and inmate, no matter if he was cordial and tied her wrists with a pretty red bow.  
He led her out of the menagerie and down a dark corridor that seemed to stretch for years. Radio waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, but they did not. She felt a pressing feeling, walking so close to him in the dark, that startling cinnamon smell so close to her, his hands – one feather-light at her spine, one wrapped around her arm, deceptive in their gentleness.  
“I thought at least you’d have some charming wall sconce made from an enemy’s skull and a peppermint candle,” she said, cutting through the silence. “Nothing at all? Bleak, doc. Very bleak.”  
“I do well enough without the light,” said Tivan.  
“You have the tan to prove that.”  
“Beside this, it is not important for you to see where we’re going.”  
“In case I get free and decide that, rather than escaping, I’ll just explore your creepy lab of horrors.”  
“Yes, in case of that. Step up, please.”  
Radio stepped into a small, dimply lit elevator with a single glass panel. As they swooped upward the ocean of green terrariums came into view below, each growing smaller, but the field blooming ever outward, more and more of them, as they rose. Radio had no idea how many there were. She didn’t even think to look for her own – hers was just one miserable tank in a living reef that stretched out forever.  
The elevator swung to one side and her legs scrambled beneath her. Tivan held her by the arms to keep her steady. Radio bristled again at his touch but let it pass without comment, if only because of what she saw when the elevator doors opened.  
The room had already been prepared for her. Small nodes of blue light illuminated the space from everywhere like some bioluminescent sea cove. There was a side door, a bench hung with fluffy white towels, and, in the center of the room, the most enormous bathtub Radio had ever seen.  
It was practically a pool. It was already full of hot water, gently steaming, little jets of bubbles fizzing through, the blue lights under the water casting a glow that lit the room. There was space enough in there for seven of her.   
She couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Are you kidding?” she said. “And… this whole thing is _yours?”_  
“Tonight it is yours,” said Tivan.  
Radio only laughed again as if she couldn’t believe it.  
“You, _you_ made this?” she asked. “This is beautiful! This is in _your_ house? You, the king of the ghouls?”  
“At last I manage to surprise you,” he said, removing the red cord from around her wrists with a single pull. “Now, as to what you intend to wear…”  
“Wear? Oh. Wear.”  
She had forgotten that the Collector would certainly not allow her total solitude during her bath; she couldn’t have hoped for as much, no matter their deal. She was lucky enough that he had elected to come himself, rather than involving a pack of his guards, armed with tasers. Or would she have preferred that? But now Radio had a problem. She couldn’t very well enjoy her bath naked, with Tivan in the room.  
“When you made your request last night, I suspected you might be hesitant about such an arrangement,” he reached for something folded on the bench. “I had this made for you. I feel sure it will serve.”  
Radio, with some suspicion, took from him the slippery, folded material. It was dark and smooth – a top and bottom piece for swimming. She was surprised that such a thing had occurred to him.  
“Where can I change?” she asked, already suspecting the answer.  
“Anywhere you please.”  
She squinted at him. “Then turn around.”  
“If you think I am a fool –”  
“I think I need privacy, just look away.”  
Tivan rolled his eyes, but kept them mostly away from her as she changed, keeping her in the tail of his vision. Her aqua blue back was turned to him and his eyes kept flickering toward it, back and forth, in the dark. When she straightened back up, he snapped his eyes to the ceiling, once again determined not to be caught staring at his own possession.  
“There,” said Radio. “D’you know, it’s not bad at all.”  
Tivan looked and forgot what he was doing for a moment, forgot not to stare. The suit was dark, minimal, hugged every contour of her, left exposed her aqua belly and gently curved sides. Her hips sat at just such an angle that his eyes grew heavy, constantly drawn down to them.  
“Just so,” he agreed, forcing himself to say something. “My tailor does fine work.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathtime is funtime.

Radio turned to the glow of the tub. She sat at its edge, creeping her feet toward the rim as if not daring to let herself jump in.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked.

“Don’t rush me, Skeletor,” she said with a smile. “This is the first hot bath I’ll have gotten in ten years -- ten! I won’t even let _you_ ruin it for me.”

Tivan sat back on the bench, watching her in silence. Slowly, she tested the water with a single turquoise toe and drew it back at once. 

Tivan raised his eyebrows. “Too hot?”

“Lovely,” she whispered.

In went the whole foot. The other followed. Her legs up to the knees, and she sat at the edge, swishing her feet in the water, back and forth. Her eyes fell shut.

Still whispering, she asked, “Do I have a time restraint?”

Tivan thought a moment. “I should like to get back to work in a few days.”

A soft, drunken laugh. Was he making her happy?

Radio slid into the water all at once, flipping her head back to soak her hair with the glorious warmth. He had added something to the water to make it smell nice, something citrusy and comforting. All over, Radio’s skin was tingling with delight. Nothing she could remember had ever felt so good, nothing since being wrapped in her mother’s arms. This was better than a bed, than making love, than the opera, this was every good feeling bottled up and poured all over her skin.

When she had soaked in the heat, Radio noticed a series of small buttons around the inside of the tub, each with a different color.

“Try them out,” said Tivan.

“And release a nerve venom? Not today, thank you.”

“You will release soaps, shampoo, bubbles, jets of warmer and cooler water,” Tivan said patiently. “Only one of them is a toxin.”

“Getting better at those jokes...” Radio tried a button and out puffed a spray of soapy bubbles that smelled like a sweet tea.

Before long the tub was full of bubbles, and Radio was truly smiling for the first time in too long, working the froth through her hair, humming absently to herself and, in doing so, sending little pink clouds spiraling into the air.

“This is amazing,” she sighed, rocking to float on her back as the bubbles began to disappear. “I can’t bear not sharing this, even if it is with you. You’ve got to get in on this.”

“I do know perfectly well what a bath feels like.”

“But not _this_ bath, not at this moment, on this night,” she insisted. “Because I can promise you, this is the best one there will ever be in the history of warm water. Jump in, Jack, I promise I won’t try to drown you.”

Only for a second did it tempt him. For one second he thought of her welcoming him for once, letting him put his arms around her, in her wet hair, for one second he thought how he might stop her mouth from making any cutting remarks...

He shook his head. “Enjoy your bath in as much peace as I can possibly allow you, my dear.”

She flipped her fingers, sending a little splash toward his shoes. “Suit yourself, Gloomy Gus.”

He continued watching her with a confused expression. She opened her eyes and squinted in his direction, still floating on her back in the glowing water.

“You have no idea why I’m having fun, do you?”

“I can sympathize with your desire for a more comforting aspect to such a perfunctory task as---”

“But you still don’t get why it’s fun.”

Tivan felt the beginnings of disharmony. This was, of course, not unusual when it came to her.

“There are a great many things in which I take pleasure,” he said archly.

She raised her eyebrows and mocked his voice. “Oh indeed!”

Tivan’s lips tightened. “I take immense pleasure in your singing, as you well know,” he said. “As evidenced by the trouble I’ve taken to bring this evening about.”

Radio, rather than continuing to tease him, smiled.

“You kept your word,” she said. “I shall keep mine.”

Lying on her back in the glowing blue water, Radio began singing out a piano and drum beat that stretched out across the walls of the small room, a bass and beatbox that vibrated gently against the blue pin-light illuminations of the ceiling. From her outstretched hands, Radio sent matching blue lights spiraling up and out all across the room, vibrating in time with her voice.

_Don’t be afraid of the beat, now_  
Don’t fear the rhythm  
Let that boom fill the room, turn up the sound  
Turn off the lights  
And dance with me  
Here in the dark, dancing with the enemy  
I know you’re scared of the beat  
But just turn it up loud, let it go  
In the night, forget what you think you know  
Let down your guard  
And dance with me  
Oh, oh, here in the dark, dancing with the enemy  
If I can do it, so can you  
Feel that sound just echo in the blue  
Night creature, shed your coat  
Come on, dance with me  
Oooh, here in the dark, dancing  
Dancing with the enemy 

Tivan was enraptured. It took him several moments to realize he was sitting forward on the bench with his chin in his palm, and a smile at the corners of his mouth just tugging there, insistent, unbidden. Aware that he looked foolish, he shook himself back to his rigid posture as the siren dove beneath the water. Her black hair fanned out behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself and spun slowly in the water, as if wrapping herself in a liquid blanket.

Giving her pleasure was such a bizarre experience. He wanted so much to feel altruistic, as if his only motive was to make her happy, but he dared not deceive himself. Tivan was not a hero. He wanted her voice all to himself, wanted her to sing for him when she felt good because it made her sound immaculate, he wanted her to smile and laugh because he liked to look at her when she did so, he wanted her to be happy because she behaved herself when she was. It was easier to know how to act once you acknowledged the monster within.

But once Radio flipped her hair back out of the water and smiled up at the ceiling with droplets on her eyelashes and droplets on her lips, the lines grew fuzzy once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY I totally slipped and had no idea I did not post the ending to this train wreck! And here I've been getting kudos on an unfinished piece! Here is the ending, WAY overdue! SORRY.

Radio looked at him and caught him staring.

“Am I bothering you, warden?” she asked with a laugh in her voice.

“You will get wrinkled if you stay in too long,” he said.

“Will I?”

“Look at your hands.”

She did. It had been so long since she’d gotten to stay in a bath that she’d forgotten what her fingers would look like after too long. They were so tightly shriveled that she actually jumped a little at the sight of them.

“Maybe this is my escape attempt,” she said, smirking at Tivan. “I wrinkle myself too small for you even to see and poof! I’m just a memory.”

“A very impractical plan,” said Tivan. “Impolitic too, as you’ve told me all about it, and now I know just what to look out for.”

“Ah well, drawing board,” said Radio. “But I suppose... I can’t stay in all night.”

“No, madam, I’m afraid not.”

Radio sighed slowly, closed her eyes, and seemed to drink in the hot water with her skin, trying to remember every bit of it. She climbed out, and Tivan stood with one of the large white towels, wrapping it around her shoulders. She murmured a quiet “thanks” and he forced himself to step back and keep his hands at his sides while she dried herself off.

“I think I’ll just change back at my cage if you don’t mind, boss,” she said, tying the towel around her hips.

“I’ll have fresh clothes sent over,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

“I am.”

“Wrists please.”

Radio lifted her chin and considered him for a moment with pursed lips. They watched each other, each making quick calculations unspoken, then Radio put up her wrists for the Collector to tie. 

He was more gentle his time. They’d had a moment, a good experience, and he did not wish to destroy all the goodwill he’d earned by being too harsh with her. She watched his eyes the entire time and it unseated him, and when he guided her to the elevator, she was looking at his face again. Was she smiling? He was hesitant to look.

As they dropped toward the menagerie and the cages came into view, Radio sighed again.

“Business as usual tomorrow, I suppose,” she said.

He looked at her.

He said, “Things can change.”

The elevator doors opened on the menagerie floor. She turned her face toward his.

“They really can’t.”

Radio’s foot flew up toward his chest faster than he could react and he was kicked against the back wall of the elevator. She ran into the dark hallway as the doors began to shut between them but Tivan held up a hand and they burst apart. He yanked her back toward him. She used the momentum to throw a foot upward and kick at him again but this time he was prepared. He caught her ankle and, wrists bound, her shoulders hit the floor. Radio shouted a curse and squirmed. With a deft wriggle, she broke free of the red rope around her wrists.

Tivan’s surprise lost him his grip for a moment and he caught another kick, this one to the jaw.

Radio was up and running again, but of course he was more powerful than any of the creatures he’d caught and caged. With a wave, Tivan slammed her against the wall and clamped his arm across her collarbone, catching her wrist with his other hand. She glared at him in the darkness, so near she could smell the cinnamon on him like spiced fire. 

“That,” he said, speaking low, close to her face. “Was ill conceived.”

Radio kept looking at his face. What was it about his devil’s eyes that she kept wanting to stare at?

“True,” she said. “But I had to try.”

Both pressed together in the dark, they watched one another’s faces as if looking for clues. Her lips were so close. There were mere seconds between them, nanoseconds, a gap he might close without ever needing to explain why. She kept watching him, never flinching, never turning away. Her lips parted. She leaned forward, just so slightly closer to him.

“Let’s get you back,” said Tivan.


End file.
